Mira made a point of avoiding trouble this time around.

Early dawn mist settled in light vapors over Elnoire, the rising sun shooting shades of pale gold through the droplets as it scaled the morning sky. True to her word, Mira lingered along the edges of the nearby forest to forage for edible berries and herbs to pack for snacking. The forest, known only as the Maidenwoods, was home to a variety of flora and offered shelter to wildlife of all sizes. It’s lunch green grass and canopy of trees provided just the right amount of light for flickerfruit, an olive green berry that shone a brighter hue at night aerityne flowers, known for their large, white petals capable of quelling most ailments and anxieties, alongside other fruits and berries and spices Mira recognized from her years spent behind a store front.

The scent of them reminded her of being back home, sprinkling a spice mix of obrin leaves and nutmeg into a mixing bowl and she paused for a minute just to relish in the familiarity. Along the way, though, she passed a few noxious pretenders, fakes that she almost picked that resembled more familiar berries. Each time Mira reminded herself of the trickery, a small part of her considered snagging a few of them to use in her arsenal in case someone decided to pull something funny.

Magic’s annoying voice in her head warning her otherwise, though, persuaded her to stick with what they needed and nothing else.

She tore at bunches of mangleroot from beside the trunks of faintly pulsing trees, light emitted in waves from the lichen that clung to it. It was a lot of effort for a simple job of replenishing their supply; the brown roots, ranging from wiry and meager to thick and stubborn, had a habit of coiling around each other like a bouquet of serpents. Each tug got her nowhere. The damned things lifted the soil when she pulled but refused to detach themselves from the earth or each other. After a stubborn, five minute grapple against a bundle that got her nowhere, Mira gave a final, harsh tug and sat down on the dirt.

She should’ve stolen Magic’s knife when she left to chop the dreaded things free. But there was no point in dwelling on that thought and they needed the extra supplies, so Mira did what she always did: she strong-armed her way through the task, targeting individuals instead of the bundles. To her dismay, even the individual ones remained stubbornly in place despite her attempts. She only paused at the sound of a soft hoot from an owl above, its coo low as if in warning. Leave that be.

“Too bad,” she muttered, sparing a single glance up at the tree. “I need these.”

The bird ruffled its speckled, dull brown feathers in seeming discontent, its long feathery tail curling in an arc and then unfurling in the way a curious dog would sweep its tail along the floor in slow strokes. It peered at her curiously from its spot on the branch, void-like eyes drilling into her, its head cocked in an awkward-looking ninety-degree tilt.

Mira scoffed. Just her luck to be silently disapproved of by a bird.

She returned to her struggle despite the creature’s warning hoots and this time the mangleroot yielded. Mira toppled to the side with a yelp as the roots came free. The bird, too, shrieked and fluttered away onto another branch a few feet closer to her, ruffling its feathers with a series of small chirps.

Mira gave a tired smile, holding up her bounty. “What?” she asked. “Did my success scare you that much?”

She gleaned no response from the owl; it just continued to stare at her, flapping its wings to make itself look bigger. Then, from further in the forest came the same shriek from before, loud and sharp, that made Mira jump and it was then she realized that it was not the bird that made the noise earlier. It made a separate long, fearful call in response to the noise and took flight elsewhere, several other birds flying away with it.

Goosebumps puckered on Mira’s skin and she felt suddenly cold despite her layers. It wasn’t a weather chill brought by wind, but an unsettling kind of cold. The one that followed the sound of metal scraping against itself or chalk when drawn from the wrong angle. And it wasn’t a feeling Mira wanted to stick around much longer, so she gathered her materials, shoved them in her pockets and made her way out of the forest edges and back towards the town’s boundaries where her brother, hopefully, lay dozing in the alley.

The town’s dull atmosphere, alongside the scent of burning spice and tar and sound of crying from families in makeshift tents, was an oddly reassuring thing. Elnoire was the equivalent of looking at an old, worn out photograph with ripped edges and stained ink. A rundown town with no saving grace. She would much rather be in the previous town, Runesboro, which had a penchant for fancy parchment and jewelry, or her hometown, Chrome, but anywhere was better than the forest edge, which gave her the creeps just thinking about it.

By the time she strolled into the backstreets, it was high noon, a strong potent scent radiating from further down the alley that nearly made her gag. She was used to the less than aromatic scents from this part of town, but it was particularly horrific today and she made several turns just to try and avoid the smell. A familiar cat colony congregating by one of the dumpsters was the only sign that Mira was on the right path and the scent seemed stronger here. She rarely trusted her directional sense, even on days where she wasn’t being particularly avoidant of certain areas—that was why she asked Magic where they needed to go—but her small journeys to gather coins at night or in the morning while her brother slept taught her one thing: the cats at this dumpster were always present and for whatever reason, Mira always took the path that led to them.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Part of her considered just taking one of the cats from the alley to keep with them as a travel buddy. She’d pitched the idea as a suggestion to her brother and he wasted no time in telling her that the idea was not only pointless, but not possible.

Survival, he’d said, doesn’t care if you’re generous. We can barely feed ourselves. What makes you think we could feed a cat?

Sure, Mira understood his point, but that didn’t make the truth any less tragic.

She paused along one of the brick walls, watching the animals clamber up and down the boxes and crates. Some stared at her curiously as if they were expecting food to be dropped at her paws. It always shocked her considering that Mira never once fed them anything aside from her attention, but maybe they were like her, eager and hungry and desperate for a decent meal.

Nearby, one of the kittens mewled, poking its head out from the side of the dumpster to swat at an old piece of meat on the ground. It had to have been days old—maybe a week, which explained the mustier scent than usual. Flies circled it like a vicious flock of vultures, dispersing the second tiny claws snagged the slab and dragged it into the abyss beneath the metal container.

Mira held back a retch and continued on her walk.

The sight only reminded her that perhaps she should bring up the topic of better food to her brother again. He was stingy with the cash and refused to hand the tiny cloth bag over to her for fear of her spending it despite her insistence that she wouldn’t. Mira even considered stealing a few of the coins again to buy comfort items, but Magic kept a tight hold on the bag since the first time she tried that.

Her steps quickened at the sight of splintered boxes, crudely organized in a way that gave them any kind of barrier from the rest of the alley, and the familiar sound of soft snoring. The long, cracked planks welcomed her home like a pair of welcoming arms and she squeezed her way past the crates and towards her brother, still sound asleep beneath his blanket tarp.

“I’m back,” she said, talking as if Magic could hear her. She sat beneath her own makeshift tent and began separating the berries and herbs into individualized containers that she kept inside of her duffle bag organized by sweetness and use.

“You’ll never guess what I ran into this morning getting the mangleroot,” she went on, paying no attention to her volume levels as she popped some of the berries in her mouth while sorting. “A bird had the audacity to yell at me while I was ripping roots from the ground. It was a cute little thing, too. Brown with white spots and a thin tail that kind of looked like a vine. Shame I don’t know what it was. If only someone with a unique knowledge and love of birds could tell me what lived in the dreaded forest of Circadia—”

The nearby groan from Magic’s makeshift tent made her grin. “What?” she asked.

“Can you stop talking?” muttered her brother, his voice cracking on the words. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“‘Some’ would imply that there’s other people trying to get some shut eye. It’s noon, Mags. You’ll sleep the entire day away and stay up all night for the night watch.”

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

Mira poked her head out from under her tarp and tossed the container for sweeter berries in her brother’s direction, ignoring his complaints. She placed the sorted berries and herbs back into her bag. “Get up, Magic. We have things to do.”

“Like?” he asked, covering his face with his elbow. Now that Mira got a better look at him, hair mussed and tangled, glasses tilted and long coat half off his shoulders to show the shirt beneath it, he looked like he could use the motion. If they were going to get out of here, they were going to need more supplies than what they had left in their duffles from their travels.

“Getting out of this shithole.” Mira stood and stretched, tugging on the edges of her jacket, the deep purple a lighter hue in the sun’s rays, its black buttons glistening. “Eat what you want for breakfast. And I want you to bring the coin pouch.”

Magic stopped mid chew, holding a tiny orange berry just in front of his lips. “Why do we need the coin pouch?”

“Because,” Mira said, tilting forward, “we’re going shopping. We need food, Magic—don’t give me that eye roll. I’m not suggesting we go out to a butcher shop and sit down at a table with a grilled turkey on a plate. But, it would be nice to not be living on a rabbit’s diet. We don’t have to get much. Just something … different.”

She could see the mental gymnastics Magic was doing in his head; his stare was intensive and the hold he had on the berry was tightening, but not forceful enough to squish it. He popped it into his mouth shortly after, then pushed his glasses higher up his nose, the glare shielding his bicolored gaze from view. “We need this money, Mira. We don’t have enough of it to be spending left and right.”

“And we won’t. You have my word.”

Her brother took a deep breath. “The last time you said that, I was in Chrome’s clinic for a dislocated shoulder and a broken left wrist.”

“I didn’t know the roof was slippery.”

“It rained the previous night, Mira.”

Mira waved her arms around, hoping to cut off his train of thought and stop him from speaking further.. “Okay, but that was different! Rooftop hopping and shopping don’t have nearly the same dire consequences. Hell, where is my benefit of the doubt? I’ve given that to you plenty of times.”

Magic huffed, flicking his wrist as if to push away smoke. “Yes, but I don’t need that nearly as much as you do.”

“Plus,” Mira went on, ignoring her brother’s jab, “why do you think I woke you up? You can help keep me on task and on budget. You’re a money manager—”

“I’m cheap. There’s a difference.”

Mira frowned. “I was gonna go for something more positive, but yeah, we can say that, too, if you want.” She held her hand out for the container that Magic handed over and placed it by the mouth of her tent, turning around in time to spot her brother standing up, the ribbon of the coin pouch poking out from the mouth of his pocket. “Oh,” she said, “two things. One, tuck the pouch further into your coat.”

“Okay,” he said, fixing the cloth. “What’s the second one?”

“Fix your hair. We’re going out in the public square.”